


The Cat's Meow

by Daiyanerd, Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [111]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex, With a side of lowkey pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:16:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiyanerd/pseuds/Daiyanerd, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Daishou's friends keep telling him he needs a distraction and to get out more. An old frenemy in tight leather is just what the doctor ordered.





	The Cat's Meow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Sportsfest 2018 remix round. The enclosed art was cheekily crafted by Hilary/Daiyanerd. It's not particularly nsfw, so it's probably okay to view in public.
> 
> Another note: both characters have been drinking in this before they get it on. If this bothers you, don't read.

Crappy pop music blares at the party Daishou really hadn’t wanted to attend, yet here he is dressed as a sexy reptile — whatever the hell that’s supposed to be — and dodging other partygoers as their dancing threatens his personal space and equilibrium. He has no idea where his friends are. If he were to guess, he would imagine they’re somewhere where booze flows freely and girls do, too.

Daishou knows they mean well. After breaking things off with Mika due to attending different colleges, he hasn’t so much as attempted to get back on the horse in terms of dating. He has volleyball practice, more homework than one can shake a stick at, and no desire to have his feelings trampled on by circumstance. Sure, it’s been a few years since all of that, but the status quo works for him.

A familiar voice behind him sends a shiver down his spine, and Daishou wheels around to find himself face to face with his old nemesis from high school. “Oh, for crying out loud.”

Kuroo beams at him. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite snake.” He leans in, the scent of alcohol warm and heady on his breath. “I hate snakes, but you’re all right sometimes.”

“Seriously?” Daishou takes a long drag of his drink and sets down the empty cup on a nearby table. His eyes rake down Kuroo’s long, lean form, taking in the skin-tight pleather and cherry red tail. His disastrous hair is gelled up to form little cat ears to complete the ensemble. Daishou rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that a girls’ costume?”

Turning around to wiggle his springy tail under Daishou’s nose, Kuroo answers, “There is nothing gendered about a sexy cat.”

Daishou’s heart speeds in his chest, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the taut fabric clinging to all the right places on Kuroo’s body. His thick muscled thighs, his arms, and an ass he could bounce a coin off of. He swallows hard. “Oh, god.”

Kuroo winks over his shoulder. “Wanna dance?”

He most certainly wants to dance, but it has nothing to do with the cloying music in the room. Daishou can only stare as Kuroo moves to the music, not the most gracefully, but as his muscles and other various parts of interest pulsate underneath the gleaming costume fabric, it’s easily the only thing in a square kilometer he can fathom looking at.

Pressing his backside against Daishou’s lap, Kuroo writhes and undulates against his whole front, and his body responds in kind. Once the current song ends, Daishou’s arms slide around Kuroo’s waist and he murmurs, “You wanna get out of here? I can think of plenty of better things to do?”

He punctuates his offer by raking his fingernails down the line of Kuroo’s hips, wrenching out a groan. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Fifteen minutes later, the door to Kuroo’s dorm room bursts open, and the two of them reel inside. A wildly swung foot kicks the door closed behind them, and they crash into the bed and sprawl out in a heap of roving arms and legs. 

Daishou hitches one of Kuroo’s knees to his chest and grinds their hips together, coaxing a needy whine from Kuroo. The aching arousal straining the front of Daishou’s costume trousers tends to agree.

He gropes around until he finds the zipper in the back of Kuroo’s costume, and he roughly hauls it down until he reaches the tail. Unhooking it from its clasp, Daishou has freedom to tug the zipper all the way down. 

Yet just when he starts to peel Kuroo out of the cat costume, Daishou pauses. Smirking, his mouth hovers over Kuroo’s ear and he purrs, “I’m going to make you come all over your cute little kitty costume, you dirty little slut.” 

Kuroo moans at the words, and Daishou pats the pieces of the costume back into place. He has access to everything he needs as Kuroo slaps at the nightstand for a tube of lube and a strand of condoms. He works Kuroo open, periodically stopping to grind his palm into the arousal straining against fake leather. 

Little effort is required to shimmy his own costume tights down his thighs. Suiting up his own length and slickening it in turn, Daishou hikes up Kuroo’s barely exposed hole and eases it down onto his cock. Closing his eyes at the tightness of both the position and the ass he’s wanted to bury himself in since he was sixteen, Daishou exhales heavily and wheezes, “Fuck.”

Soon, Kuroo whimpers and cants his hips against Daishou, and Daishou starts to move. On his knees, he pins both of Kuroo’s knees against his chest and pounds away at his insides. Gritting his teeth, Daishou reaches down and grinds his fist hard against Kuroo’s cock, dragging a soundless cry from him that Daishou doesn’t need to hear for it to vibrate in his every nerve. 

“You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you?” Daishou hisses. Kuroo’s pupils are wide and black, staring but not seeing as they look only at him.

A knot of tension swells in his belly, and he knows he’s going to come. His pace devolves into a wild thrash of need, and Kuroo palms his own length until he screams under his breath and sags into the mattress. Daishou pounds into him until tears spring up in the corners of Kuroo’s eyes, but when their smoldering gazes meet, Daishou comes hard.

Breathless and spent, Daishou drapes himself over Kuroo’s chest as best he can without pulling out, their mouths meeting for a sloppy wet kiss that’s almost as messy as the rest of them. Finally unable to support his own weight anymore, Daishou pulls out and peels off the condom, stuffing it back into the wrapper and flopping it on the nightstand. 

He flops next to Kuroo on the bed and pulls them together, lips pressing softly at the nape of Kuroo’s neck. “You want out of that thing?”

“I think my pubes are drying to the inside of the suit,” Kuroo offers, and Daishou shudders while he helps Kuroo wriggle free of the squeaky costume fabric. Once he’s free, he sighs. “Thank god.”

Kuroo grabs a wet wipe from a pack inside the nightstand, but Daishou takes it from him and gently cleans up the sticky remnants of Kuroo’s own pleasure.

Whipping off the rest of his ridiculous outfit, Daishou relishes in the feel of a warm and willing body pressed against his own. He knows what he said before, and he isn’t even mad about being wrong.

He has missed this. Missed being with someone. Hell, he even missed Kuroo. Now he can’t picture being anywhere else.


End file.
